


Audio

by fightingfairywoman



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Child Neglect, Child Protective Services, Department of Family Services, Gen, social work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 06:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15407319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightingfairywoman/pseuds/fightingfairywoman
Summary: It's not the first time the Gallagher family has been pulled unceremoniously apart by the DFS, but Fiona wants to know who's responsible. Their case worker isn't supposed to give her any answers, but it's easy to find a way to bend the rules, even if you're not used to it.





	Audio

**Author's Note:**

> If you're not familiar with this plot arc in Shameless (US), it takes place during Season 3. Frank Gallagher, surprising exactly no one, has continued to neglect and exploit his children, while Fiona has continued to work her ass off to support her five younger siblings. Pissed and vindictive, Frank makes an anonymous call to the DFS; the Gallagher children are separated, sent variously to foster homes and juvenile institutions, and Fiona has no legal right to even visit them while she fights to get them back.
> 
> When Fiona comes into the office to get an update, she asks rhetorically how someone can ruin their lives with an anonymous phone call, and speculates about who might have done it. The case worker, increasingly sympathetic to Fiona's desire for custody, gives her a chance to find out, and she does: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39VNoZ64lmk
> 
> This is my take on what happened offscreen.

’I have to go to the restroom,’ I said carefully. ‘I’d appreciate if you didn’t click on this file while I’m gone.’

Several reactions flickered over her face in the space of a second: surprise, uncertainty, understanding. No gratitude—but then, I could understand that; she didn’t have the time to be thankful, not when she had only minutes to make her move.

Her eyes, as always, were wide with determination and defiantly-concealed fear. She would lift her chin when she held her ground, and that look was what had been breaking me down slowly over the course of this case. I’d meant to stick to my training, to my guidelines, but I was never taught how to deal with someone who stared me straight in the face with eyes like that.

My heart was fluttering when I stepped into the restroom. I suddenly realised that I didn’t remember how long the recording was; how long would I need to give her? How long could I plausibly stay away? The door’s hinges whined and a sour-faced woman pushed past me. I should at least pretend to be using the facilities, I thought to myself, smiling tightly at her. She ignored it and slammed the stall door shut behind her.

For some reason I automatically went to wash my hands, even though I hadn’t done anything to get them dirty. Then again, if the sour-faced woman didn’t hear the water run, she might think I was neglecting my basic hygiene; I was going against plenty of my own rules, but there was no need for that, so I ran my fingers briefly under the tap and counted to thirty slowly while I collected myself.

When I got back to my desk, Fiona was still there. She was leaning against the back of the seat, but she was far from relaxed: her back was straight, her arms crossed tightly. She gazed at the opposite wall while I sat back down and glanced quickly over the screen. The file was shut, no sign that the recording had been played, but it was written all over her face.

‘It was my dad,’ she said dully, after a long moment. She was making eye contact, but she might as well have been staring right past me. ‘He made the call.’

Six months ago, I’d have gladly said this was the appropriate way forward. It didn’t matter who called it in; five minors in an unstable house, no guarantee of food or clean clothes or supervision from a responsible adult? It was our job to intervene. But that was before I met the Gallaghers.

Fiona swung her bag over her shoulder again, still not looking at me. Without another word, she walked out.


End file.
